


Say My Name

by clarkegriffvn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, I CAVED IN, I Tried, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roommates, SO MANY PPL HAVE REQUESTED SMUT, Smut, Walking In On Someone, Witty banter. Lots of kissing. Minty x1000, but yeah mostly smut/fluff, except it does have a lil plot, i'm tagging, oh yeah, the minty fandom was in need tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkegriffvn/pseuds/clarkegriffvn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompted by anonymous: "we've been roommates since freshman year and now we’re juniors and i accidentally walked in on you masturbating because you forgot to put something on the door handle, and oh no this is awkward because i’ve had a crush on you since frosh week and i think you were moaning my name but there are a lot of nathans on campus so maybe im wrong"</p>
<p>This is pure smut, but I snuck some fluff in there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say My Name

Nathan Miller had a reputation. He was tough, didn't put up with any shit, and didn't stray outside his circle of friends. A circle he'd defend with his life, everyone on campus knew. And especially, as a Tough Guy™, he did not take orders.  
  
Unless he just lost a three-player death match to Bellamy and Murphy, in which case he was delegated the role of ‘snack bitch’. Then, Nathan Miller did indeed take orders.  
  
"Okay," he said tiredly, "that's one coffee crisp, two bags of sour cream and onion, and two gross-ass ketchup chips. All good?"  
  
"Ketchup chips aren't gross, they're the nectar of the gods," Murphy protested. His eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of him.   
  
Bellamy glanced sideways at him, hands attacking his PS3 controller.   
  
"Which gods?" Bellamy asked. "Because I'm pretty sure the Greek didn't have chips. Or the Egyptian, Norse, Roman--"  
  
"Nectar of the modern gods, then," Murphy dismissed. "What are kids into these days? Paganism?"  
  
"Well actually Paganism has been around for--"  
  
"Okay, you two have fun!" Miller yelled, not hearing the rest as he made his escape.  
  
He stepped out of Bellamy's dorm room, shutting the door. There was a whiteboard on it that read across the top in Murphy's handwriting "GO AWAY." Then below, in Bellamy's "he secretly loves puppies and small children" answered with "fuck off" and an ever-so creative drawing of a misshapen hand giving the middle finger. The rest was just graffiti from their friends.  
  
Miller shook his head and turned away from the sounds of video game gunshots and yelling. He padded down the dorm hall, fidgeting with his wallet in his sweatpants pocket.   
  
Just that morning he had rolled out of bed in those same sweatpants, hitting his head on the dresser with a dull thunk. On cue, his first alarm of the morning came on softly, so as not to wake his roommate, Monty. Miller groaned, knowing his tumble probably just did what he always tried to avoid.  
  
Miller regained his breath for a second. He peeked up blearily from the floor at the bed across from his. Monty’s pile of blankets shifted; a bad sign.  
  
Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that he disliked his roommate. They were good friends and it was their second year of sharing a dorm room. He just avoided Monty in the mornings. And it happens to have worked out that Miller always left early for hockey practise, hours before Monty had his first class. Monty wasn’t a dick in the morning, either, he was just sleepy and pleasant with his cute, drawn-out yawns and ruffled bed-head.  
  
Yeah, Miller liked his roommate a lot. That was the problem.  
  
Emerging from his blanket cocoon, Monty stirred and sat up. Miller quickly looked away from the curve of Monty’s bare torso, mentally cursing himself. He couldn’t be trusted around a shirtless Monty, not after the boy had started occupying his less-than-appropriate thoughts.  
  
“Hey, clumsy,” Monty murmured sleepily to Miller. “You alright?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, ducking his head at both the pain and the nickname. He stood, continuing, “It was just a dream.”  
  
Monty just yawned, pushing his blankets off his body. He pulled his phone out of the depths of his blankets and looked at the time, making a face.  
  
“Sorry,” Miller commented, unzipping his sports bag (often referred to as ‘Murphy’s body bag’). He piled his skates and padding inside, sneaking glances at Monty over his shoulder.  
  
Monty just propped himself up on his elbows, head resting on his headboard. His hair fell in his eyes, expanse of pale chest stretched out and lit softly by the sunlight filtering through their window.   
  
“You should, uh,” Miller blinked, looking away, “go back to bed. Try to get some sleep before class.”  
  
Monty nodded and curled onto his side, phone still in hand.  
  
Moving faster than he should’ve had the energy for that early, Miller escaped out the door.  
  
“Have a good practise,” Monty called out behind him, voice muffled by his pillow. Miller bit his lip to hold back a smile.  
  
Miller shook himself out of the memory, looking up at the hall. He realized that his wandering mind had taken his body on a detour near his and Monty’s room. He hesitated, looking behind him toward the stairs to the vending machines. Instead of turning around, he kept going, resolve crumbling as he decided to check in on Monty.  
  
He had left Monty in the middle of an intense essay, papers all strewn and panic lingering in the air. Miller wouldn't have left for Bellamy's if Monty hadn’t insisted that being alone would help him work. With so many hours having passed since then, Miller just needed to make sure Monty hadn't forgotten to eat or been derailed by a nervous breakdown.   
  
See, his roommate was crazy smart, but sometimes it got the best of him. Miller's been there through a couple of Monty's anxiety attacks, and he liked to think of himself as a good lifeline. Only for Monty, though.   
  
_He's an easy person to be comfortable around,_  Miller excused, not noticing the smile touching his lips as he walked through the halls.  
  
Finally he reached their door, leaning against the wall and stretching his calves with a groan. His legs were already protesting the idea of walking up to the third floor vending machine. That extra hour on the ice yesterday kicked his ass.   
  
_So much for setting a good example for the rookies,_ Miller thought. He was going to hurt like hell during their practise game tomorrow. 

Contemplating grabbing an ice pack for his sore, well, everything, he nudged open the door.   
  
The first thing he noticed was that all the lights are off, safe for the glow of Monty’s laptop, half-closed on the desk between their beds. He stepped forward silently, assuming Monty was asleep, seeing as he wasn’t at the desk. But when Miller looked to Monty’s bed, he froze.   
  
Monty was naked from the waist down, button-up shirt completely undone as if he had been running his hands over his body. His breathing was heavy and panting, nothing like Miller’s ever heard before. He laid with his lower half sprawled on his bed, one leg bent while the other stretched out languidly. He leaned against the headboard with his hair falling into his eyes, biting down hard on his lower lip to hold in any noise. He was getting himself off slowly, hand twisting at the end of each pull. His other hand was somewhere to his side in the shadow of the room, and Miller imagined it fisted in the sheets.

Miller stopped his wild mind there, mouth dry and a fierce blush crawling up his neck. His mind skipped back, trying to remember the last time he even had sex. With his growing crush on Monty --yes, he was finally forced to admit it to himself-- bringing a boy home felt like somehow betraying him.   
  
Miller's tenseness faded, a feeling rippling through him like the beginning of a yawn, but ending with a tug low in his gut. His eyes fixed on Monty, unable to do anything except soak in every detail he could see in the dim light. He fell into a cycle of sense and reaction, unable to stop himself. Monty’s hips curved up into his hand and Miller thought about his hands on those hips, pressing him into the bed. Monty’s mouth dropped open to suck in a shuddering breath and Miller longed to catch those lips in his own, longed to share the hot space, skin against skin--  
  
Suddenly Miller's haze of attraction shattered, and he blinked back to his senses. He backed up a step, away from the door he had cracked open, fingers brushing the knob. That's when he heard it.  
  
"Oh, fuck," Monty moaned obscenely, sending sparks through Miller's body. He'd always liked his partners vocal, and the thought of Monty being the type ricocheted through Miller's hazy mind. He closed his eyes in a pained way, trying to summon the courage to fully shut the door.  
  
" _Nathan_."  
  
Miller’s world crashed to a halt. _Did he just say...?_  
  
Miller recoiled a step speechlessly. Then, to his mortification, the hallway floor creaked under this foot. His body froze and he inhaled sharply, eyes flicking up to the still-cracked open doorway, through which he could still hear Monty's stifled gasps. Though his body was charged with hot, coursing energy, the rational side of him was completely embarrassed, and he finally pressed the door shut as soundlessly as possible.

* * *

 

Later, he stormed into Bellamy's room several shades redder than when he left. It had taken him several minutes braced against the wall and reciting hockey plays to finally calm himself, and even then images of Monty were still seared into his mind. He shoved open the door and stood there, staring at his friends in a state of shock.   
  
Bellamy looked up from their video game for a split second, concerned. "Hey man, where've you been? You stuck me alone with Murphy for a whole half hour."   
  
"Oh please, you've loved kicking my ass every level of this shitty game." Murphy countered, feet propped up on a pile of history textbooks. Then he did a double take at Miller before pausing the game. "Dude. Where are my chips?"  
  
Miller brushed off their questions, unable to process any new information whatsoever.  
  
"Guys, how many Nathans are there on campus?"

* * *

 

"Alright, out with it," Monty demanded two days later, sitting on his bed.   
  
In the middle of grabbing some granola bars, Miller swiveled around, caught off guard.  
  
"With what? Everything's fine," he answered like an automated message, hefting his gym bag over tense shoulders.  
  
"Something's wrong," Monty accused, pointing a pen at him. "You're on edge, I can tell! Are you okay?"  
  
Miller looked away and shook his head. "It's nothing, really."  
  
"Is it me, then?" Miller made a face as if to disagree, guilt bubbling up in his chest for making Monty think he was mad at him. "See!" Monty interrupted, pointing at Miller's face. "Why do you keep looking at me like that!"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I dunno, like I killed someone and that's all you can think about when you see me," Monty tossed out, clearly having overthought the whole matter.  
  
Miller's resolve finally gave. He set his bag down on the ground, trying to form the words.  
  
"I walked in on you," he mumbled, avoiding all eye contact.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I walked in on you!" he snapped bluntly, looking right at Monty.  
  
"Oh God, do you mean yesterday when I was rolling joints with Jasper blasting My Heart Will Go On? Because I can totally explain--"  
  
"What? No! No, I, uh," Miller stammered hesitantly, a blushing crawling up his neck.   
  
Monty went quiet, head tilted to the side in adorable confusion. God, he was making it difficult. Miller’s shoulders lowered and he rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Thursday night. You were up late studying, and I was across the hall at Bellamy's, and I stopped back in to make sure you hadn't forgotten to eat and passed out or anything, and..."  
  
"You walked in on-- Oh.  _Oh._ "  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Shit. I'm going to go throw myself out the window now," Monty said with a mortified, nervous laugh, starting to stand.  
  
"No! Fuck, I mean..." Miller stopped him eloquently. "Um. No."  
  
"Words, Nathan," Monty deadpanned with an anxious edge to his voice.  
  
"I heard you say my name."  
  
"Well now I'm definitely going out the window," Monty squeaked, moving to get past him. But the lack of denial gives Miller a surge of adrenaline. He stepped in front of Monty to stop him, standing much, much closer than respectable.  
  
"You were... thinking about me?" he asked, eyes boring into Monty for confirmation.  
  
"Maybe? I mean only if you think that's hot because I don't even know if you like sex stuff let alone if you like  _me_ and I just really--"  
  
"Monty."

They stood only inches apart now. Monty’s eyes flickered, searching for something in Miller’s expression. 

"Yeah?"  
  
“You like me?”  
  
“I wouldn’t be such a fucking mess if I just liked you, Miller,” Monty confessed, the honesty in his eyes leaving Miller breathless.

Miller bit down hard on his lip to hold back his questions, leaning into the space between them. His hands floated up to the sides of Monty's face, nearly closing the distance. Monty bloomed under his touch, going from shocked to euphoric to something else, something warmer. Miller watched it, a smile tugging at his mouth as he fixed his eyes on Monty’s lips. He’d wanted this for so long, was it finally--?

Their mouths met softly, Monty's hands winding around Miller's waist and pulling him closer. Miller tilted his head down into the kiss, smiling at the inch of height he had to his advantage.

“I guess I like you too,” Miller murmured between kisses, making Monty smile into the next press of their lips. 

Then Monty made a soft noise in the back of his throat. The sound entranced Miller. He ran his thumb along Monty’s jaw and kissed him with the sole purpose of hearing it again and again. Monty’s hands dragged up Miller’s back frantically, fists curling into his shirt.   
  
_I could do this forever,_ Miller thought. But that was for another time, a time when he could lie Monty down in bed and take him apart as slowly as possible. The thought had Miller almost forgetting how to breathe. Kissing Monty made him feel as if he didn’t need to.  
  
Finally they broke apart, Monty breathing heavily and looking dazed. Miller’s reckless grin turned into a laugh as he took in Monty’s appearance proudly. He was crowded against the desk, their hips inches apart and his tshirt shoved halfway up his torso. His lips were red and glossy, jaw hanging open. The word debauched came to mind.   
  
"Isn't this where you make a witty comment about me buying you dinner first?" Miller asked to fill the silence, catching Monty’s eyes.   
  
"You brought home cold pizza on Tuesday, does that count?"  
  
Miller laughed and grabbed Monty by the front of his shirt, drawing them close again.   
  
"Fine by me," he whispered into the space between them, and then it was gone.  
  
As focused as Miller was on the kissing, rational thought finally fought its way into his mind. He pulled back breathlessly to look Monty in the eyes, searching for any shred of doubt. Did Monty want to take it slow? Did he really want to be taken out to dinner first? Miller was willing, of course, but then again Monty’s body was so tempting and  _right there_  and-- he shook his head, realizing that Monty was looking at him with confusion.  
  
“Is this okay? You…” Miller falters, catching his breath. “Is this okay?”  
  
Monty’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he smiled, nodding as if to say ‘ _duh, idiot_.’  
  
“Not too fast?” he made sure, hands steady on Monty’s jaw.  
  
“If anything we should hurry,” Monty answered, smile turning into a smirk. “Unless you don’t mind missing your gym time, that is.”  
  
Miller felt a rush of heat, drunk on the boy in his arms. “I definitely don’t mind. At all,” he said earnestly, pulse racing.  
  
Monty laughed and they kissed again. Miller’s mouth wandered over to Monty’s ear, teeth grazing.  
  
“I don’t want to rush a single second of this,” he whispered.  
  
In response, Monty resumed the kiss, rocking their bodies together. He shifted angles and hummed in satisfaction, hands wandering like they didn’t want to commit to just one part of Miller, they wanted all of him. The feeling building inside of Miller was finally set off. He felt a rush of dizziness, and steadied himself with his hands pressed firmly to Monty’s hips. Monty all but gasped at the touch, biting down roughly on Miller’s lip. His hand fell back onto the desk he was pressed against, knocking something off.   
  
“Shit,” Monty muttered, looking over to see what it was.   
  
“Hey, clumsy,” Miller quoted, but then he was distracted by the sight of Monty’s neck, stretched to the side and inadvertently taunting him. He brought a hand up to skim under the slope of Monty’s jaw and down the side of his neck, like he was drawing a map to Monty’s body.  _Unexplored territory. Beautiful scenery. Traverse with caution.  
_  
When Monty stretched his neck out further in response, Miller pressed his lips to the slope of skin. He sucked determinedly on the spot, feeling Monty’s body arch beneath him. The idea of leaving a mark sent a rush down his spine. He grazed the spot with his teeth and Monty’s breath rushed out, so Miller pulled off and pressed his lips cooly to the reddening mark.   
  
“You bastard,” Monty exclaimed, only half-serious, “I’m getting you back for that.”  
  
Miller licked his lips and grinned. When he opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, Monty cut him off with a heated kiss. Attraction consumed Miller, and he gave into the rush of desire, letting it take control. Monty slipped his hands under Miller's shirt, skating cold fingers along his ribs. His mouth parted, body pushing into the touch.   
  
Suddenly Monty's hips ground upward into Miller's and a moan dropped from his mouth. They split apart, Miller's fingers hooking on the back of his own shirt to pull it over his head. Monty rushed to do the same, grabbing it at the hem and laughing as the neck caught on his elbows. Miller stepped in to pull it off and fling it away.   
  
When Monty was free, he brought up delicate hands to trace the lines of Miller’s torso, eyes alight with curiosity.    
  
"Do you want to..." Miller's eyes cut to their beds. "It would be more comfortable."  
  
Monty smiled and kissed Miller.  
  
"Of course I want to," he whispered between their lips, hand cupping Miller's jaw. Miller's mind short-circuited, processing the foreign rasp of desire in Monty's tone. Apparently Miller didn't look convinced, so to solidify his words Monty pushed off the desk and grabbed Miller's hand. When Monty stepped toward Miller's bed his sense returned, and he stopped Monty, turning him around.  
  
"Your bed," he said simply, eyes alight with what felt like singular purpose.  
  
Miller surged into Monty's space, locking their lips and crowding Monty back until his legs hit the other bed. They adjusted to get comfortable, Miller positioning Monty beneath him, caging him with his body. Their tongues slid together as Monty's nails scraped bluntly at the muscles of Miller's back. It was just like Miller had pictured the other day.  
  
Miller pulled back, holding himself up on his arms to watch Monty writhe beneath him. He started rolling his hips down in a smooth rhythm and Monty met each movement with a shaky breath, lips parting and head tilting into the pillow under him. His hand wandered from Miller's back to the lines of his bicep, then followed all the way down to lace their fingers together. Miller continued to grind and moved their joined hands above Monty's head, pinning him to the bed.  
  
There was a tug at his waistband and Miller noticed Monty's free hand hook at the fabric of Miller's jeans expectantly. Miller obliged, pulling off his pants and underwear in one. He didn't stop to contemplate being naked in front of Monty, only pressed a kiss to the other boy's hipbone as Monty lifted his hips to shuck off the last of his own clothes.   
  
The feeling of skin against skin was indescribable. If Miller thought that grinding was pretty good, the stars in his vision once all those layers were gone proved him wrong. Miller’s body caged Monty to the bed, lips of open mouths brushing close together as Miller’s head drops. Miller rocks their hips together and takes them both in his free hand, long fingers providing much needed friction for them both. But his hand was rough, so he brought it to his mouth and licked it obscenely, Monty’s pupils blown wide at the sight.   
  
Miller reached back down and Monty caught his lips again. He could taste the saltiness from his hand in the heat of their lazy kiss. But the rest of their bodies were anything but lax. The sensation was building, like the ocean drawing back before a wave crests. Miller’s rhythm hesitated to twist his fist tightly.  
  
"Nathan," Monty gasped, head turning to the side.  
  
“Hey, look at me,” Miller answered, more of a request than an order. “I want to see you.”  
  
Monty did, a reckless smile hanging off his lips.   
  
They didn't last long after that. Miller would’ve been embarrassed, actually, if he and Monty hadn’t finished just seconds apart. Breaths heavy, Miller continued to stroke them, waiting until Monty's arched body fell back to earth. His hand was a mess as he pulled it away, steadying himself by planting it to the other side of Monty.   
  
He looked down at Monty and caught his eyes, seeing them full of stars. It amazed him.  
  
For some reason Miller laughed, and that set Monty off too. The sounds mixed, spent and tired but still ringing with happiness. Miller pressed their foreheads together. Monty kissed him softly between chuckles, one hand stroking the side of his face.   
  
"You gonna get off me?" Monty joked after a second, muffled by Miller's lips.  
  
"Mm," Miller hummed absently, trying to focus on the kiss. Monty obliged, grinning, then sucked roughly at Miller's upper lip. Miller made a noise back in his throat as his arms wobbled. He broke the kiss, not wanting to collapse, and Monty pulled back with a 'told you' expression.  
  
Miller dropped to Monty's side on the bed, shoulder squished against the wall. His chest heaved, and he glanced over to see Monty looking at him, smiling. Miller wrinkled his nose and Monty smiled wider.  
  
"Here," Monty said, leaning off the bed to grab something from the floor. Miller's gaze traced the valley of his spine, the shifting of his shoulder blades.  
  
_There's a freckle there,_  his blissed-out mind decided was important.  
  
Monty cleaned both of them up with some grey fabric, then tossed it across the room into the laundry hamper. He hesitated for a second, half sitting up, so Miller tugged him by the elbow to fit their bodies side by side. Monty followed along and pulled his blanket over them.   
  
"Was that my shirt?" Miller asked after a second, eyes cutting to the hamper.  
  
Monty curled into his side a little more. "Yup," he answered uncaringly.  
  
"I liked that shirt," Miller protested, squinting down at Monty, whose head was resting on his chest.  
  
"You like me more," Monty retaliated, unfazed.  
  
"It was a pretty nice shirt," Miller said in an unconvinced tone.  
  
Monty shifted, propping his chin up to glare Miller into submission. The grin pulling at Miller`s lips won out and he laughed, amending, "Kidding."  
  
"I know," Monty hummed, lying back down.  
  
It wasn't strange or out of place for them, lying together like that. Miller thought it would be, but then it wasn't, and that was that. He watched Monty through lidded eyes, mouth pinched in thought.   
  
"I can hear you thinking," Monty murmured, drawing his index finger up and down Miller's chest.  
  
"I'd see a psychiatrist about that," Miller answered on reflex. Monty snorted but didn't push the matter.   
  
Miller's thoughts drifted away in the silence and he took a deep breath, letting them go. He could see Monty smiling a little as his hand continued to move.   
  
They were happy, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

 

"Hey Miller!" Murphy called, in the middle of barging into the room. "You'd better have a damn good reason for skipping our--"  
  
Murphy froze midsentence, taking in the sight of Monty and Miller curled up in the same bed, half-covered with Monty's duvet. Miller's head shot up, staring at Murphy in disbelief, then, to his embarrassment, turned red and speechless. Monty just laughed, a bright and careless sound.  
  
"Hi Murphy," Monty greeted, grinning.  
  
Murphy seemed to accept what he was seeing. "Hey Monty," he answered casually. "I was gonna beat up Miller for ditching me, but I see he's otherwise occupied."  
  
Miller opened his mouth and no sound came out. Nothing to dispel orgasmic bliss like the sight of one of your friends trampling into your room. Murphy was smirking, goddamn it. Monty stifled a giggle.  
  
"Sorry about that. I'd say come back later, but..." The edge of Monty's lip twitched up slyly and Murphy waved his hands in an 'I don't need to know' gesture. "He'll find you tomorrow, you can beat him up then."  
  
Murphy nodded like that was completely normal, then gave Miller a shit-eating grin.  
  
"Aw man, Coach Kane is gonna miss your pent-up, sexually frustrated anger. I mean he definitely won't miss you getting your ass kicked in fights, but--"  
  
"Get the fuck out," Miller finally snapped, tugging the blanket further up over Monty.  
  
Murphy held up his hands in surrender and pivoted on his heel.  
  
"Blake, I owe you 20$!" he shouted down the hall, slamming the door behind himself.  
  
Monty immediately burst into laughter.  
  
"This is not funny!" Miller protested. "God, why Murphy of all people? Bellamy I could tolerate. Raven, even. But Murphy? He's going to be cracking jokes about us for months."  
  
"Us. I like the sound of that."  
  
Miller immediately tried to cover up how Monty’s words affected him. He forced his heartbeat back down and gave Monty a serious look.  
  
"Murphy. Making jokes about our sex lives. Constantly." he said punctuatedly, as if still hung up on the idea.  
  
"Oh, shut up,” Monty said affectionately, nose crinkled. “I know you're happy."   
  
Rebelliously, Miller deepened his frown. But the look Monty gave him was so unimpressed that he was forced to smile. Monty nudged him and he nudged back, warm and full of buzzing nervous energy.   
  
"Even he can't ruin... This." Monty had hesitated, unsure how to label them.  
  
"Us," Miller corrected.  
  
Monty smiled and leaned up to give Miller a soft peck.  
  
"It does have a nice ring to it," Miller added, mood brightened.  
  
Monty hummed agreement and rested his head back on Miller's chest.  
  
"So," Miller said into the comfortable silence, unable to bite his tongue. "There seems to be a lot of time left in the day."  
  
"Mhmm," Monty said noncommittally, brushing a fingertip over Miller's chest. His eyes traced the movement. Miller's breath hitched, and he thought about how Monty could probably hear his heart pounding.  
  
"When you turned Murphy away, did you... have something in mind?"  
  
Instead of answering, Monty arched his eyebrows and leaned up to capture Miller's lips in a greedy kiss. It turned heated when Miller flattened a hand on the small of Monty’s back, bringing him closer. Monty reached up a hand to Miller’s face, propped on his elbow for a controlling angle. His fingers traced the line of Miller’s jaw, thumb running over his stubble. It sent a shiver through Miller and this time he was the one gasping between their lips.   
  
After Miller was left breathless, Monty pulled away and pushed the blanket off of Miller's body, moving back to kneel between Miller's knees with an open-mouthed grin.  
  
"I might have a few plans for you."

**Author's Note:**

> dont judge me pls
> 
> I don't write smut often, was it alright? Tell me everything and anything you thought in your comments!


End file.
